


bang bang (my baby shot me down)

by notahotlibrarian



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Gen, Guns, Preacher's Daughter Strikes Again, mexican honeymoon, pre-s2, season 2 fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 01:56:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notahotlibrarian/pseuds/notahotlibrarian
Summary: Seth has a rather...casual attitude towards gun safety, and Kate's been raised better than that.





	

_ Somewhere in Mexico…. _

 

Seth can feel Kate’s eyes judging him as he tucks the gun into the small of his back.  “What?” he snarls at her over his shoulder.

“That’s a good way to get your ass shot off,” she says calmly, arching one slim eyebrow at him.

“And what do you know about gun safety, princess?” he asks snidely, turning to face where she is sitting on the motel bed.

“A lot more than you do, apparently,” she spits back.

“Oh yeah?” he says, crossing his arms of his chest and giving Kate a challenging look.  “Prove it.” 

She gives him a slow, sweet smile - the kind of smile that Seth knows, deep down in his bones, to be terrified of.  It’s a powerful weapon, Kate Fuller’s smile, but one she doesn’t quite know how to wield yet.

(Seth cannot wait to see the day she realizes how powerful her smile is, yet fervently wishes he never witnesses that day.)

Kate gets up and digs around in her backpack until she pulls out a shoulder holster made out of tooled leather with a floral design.  She slides it on, and then tucks Seth’s spare revolver safely in the holster, under her left armpit.  She then slides her denim jacket on and flips her hair out from under the collar.  “Lead the way,” she says, motioning to the motel room door.

 

 

Once they’re in the car, Seth inquires about Kate’s holster.  “Where the hell did you find that?” he asks her as he drives them out of the city limits and into the barren countryside.

She shrugs.  “In one of the  _ mercados _ , a few towns back.”

“And how exactly did you pay for it?” he asks, curious and a touch pissed that she used their food money on something so impractical.

He glances over at her, and Kate gives him a long, slow look.  “Who said anything about buying it?” she retorts, eyes wide and innocent but a smirk tipping up the corner of her mouth.

“Jesus,” he swears, eyes darting back to the road.  Seth is going straight hell, that he knows for sure, but he that doesn't mean he needs to be dragging Kate down his thieving, lying path.

“Language,” she says, reaching across the console to thump him on the sensitive bone right behind his ear.

“Ow!” he yelps, shoving back at her shoulder with one hand.  When he glances back over at her, she sticks her tongue out at him.  “Oh, very mature,” he huffs, and Kate laughs.

 

 

He takes them a couple miles outside town, where an old abandoned house is.  They set up the six pack of beer bottles Seth had drank the previous night, and Seth counts out roughly ten yards.  “All yours, princess,” he says, motioning towards their makeshift targets.

Kate lines up with the targets.  As Seth watches, she un holsters the gun and thumbs the cylinder open to make sure it’s loaded.  Satisfied, she flips her wrist to close the cylinder, her movements steady and effortless.

She squares up to the first bottle, carefully placing her feet a little wider than shoulder width, and her right slightly in front of the left.  She raises the gun, elbows bent as she supports the butt in her left hand, right trigger finger resting carefully outside the trigger guard.  Seth continues to watch as Kate lines up her sight and cocks the hammer.

Then - only then - does she take a deep breath and place her finger on the trigger.  One more deep breath, and on the exhale, she fires.

The sound of breaking glass makes Seth jump a little, and he looks up at their bottle targets.  Kate’s knocked out the first one, and by the time he focuses on the next bottle she’s shot it, too.

Six bullets, six bottles.  Kate’s aim is steady and true and once she’s done, she thumbs the cylinder open again and dumps the spent shells into her left hand before shoving them in the pocket of her jeans.  “Shells,” she says, holding out her now empty left hand for more ammo.

Startled again, Seth fumbles the shells out of his own pocket and into her hand.  Kate expertly reloads, carefully keeping the revolver pointed at the ground.

Seth can feel his jaw dragging the ground, but he can’t seem to close his mouth.  Kate looks over at him and arches an eyebrow.  “I don’t know where you’re from, but in Texas, even preacher’s daughters know how to shoot,” she says dryly, her drawl creeping in with every word.

(Seth’s learned, in their two months on the road together, that the more Southern Kate’s voice gets, the more sarcastic and/or angry she is. The more time they spend together, the worse her accent gets.  He hasn’t decided if that’s a good or a bad thing yet.)

Seth closes his mouth with an audible snap and swallows.  “Not bad,” he manages to say after a moment.

Kate tucks the revolver back into her holster.  “I’m actually better with a rifle,” she says offhandedly.

“Oh yeah? What’d you learn to shoot on?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“.22 bolt-action peep-sight Winchester,” she rattles off.

Seth snorts.  “Sweetheart, a .22’s not gonna do much damage to anything, much less anybody.”

Kate rolls her eyes.  “You asked me what I learned on.  Once I mastered that, Daddy moved me up to the thirty-aught-six.”

He whistles in admiration.  “That’s got quite the kick, there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” she grumbles, rubbing her shoulder subconsciously.  They talk guns all the way back into town, and Seth begrudgingly admits - if only to himself - that Kate seems to know way more about firearms than he ever would have guessed.  It eases a little of the worry he has about her any time he leaves her alone, now knowing that she knows how to handle a gun.

 

 

When they pull back up to the motel, they both sit in silence in the car for a moment, neither wanting this good, friendly - and on Seth’s end, sober - moment to end.

“Kansas,” he blurts out after a moment.

“What?” Kate asks, shifting in her seat to turn and face him.

Seth turns to face her as well, stretching out one arm over the steering wheel and planting the other hand against the side of her seat.  He takes a deep breath.  “The preacher’s daughters I knew in Kansas didn’t know how to handle a gun.” It’s such a small piece of himself to give her, but Seth feels like he’s carving out some vital organ to offer up to Kate.

She purses her lips, seemingly unimpressed, but Seth can see the delight hidden in her bright green eyes.  “Somethin’ tells me you didn’t know too many preacher’s daughters back in Kansas,” she drawls.

“You’d be the first,” he admits, grinning unrepentantly.  “But I’d always heard that preacher’s kids are the most wild…” he taunts, leaning in a bit closer to her.

A faint blush colors Kate’s cheeks, but she stares him down.  “Oh honey,” she purrs, slow and sugary-Southern-sweet, “you have no idea.  The stories I could tell you,” she murmurs, leaning back in her seat so that the top of her head brushes against his fingertips.

Seth’s eyebrows raise, and she laughs, glowing in the sun’s setting light.  “About Scott, of course.  I would never,” she says, hand over her heart, face tilting up towards his.

It’s a dangerous game they’re playing, but those have always been Seth’s favorite.  

He gives her a slow up and down look, taking in her dusty boots, tight jeans, and the cross still hanging above the neckline of her top.  “Never say never, sweetheart,” he murmurs, gaze lingering on that cross and the shadows underneath it.

He expects her to blush - and she does, cheeks flushing a tempting shade of pink - but she also leans even further in, hands snaking around his waist.  

“Seth,” she breathes, and he holds himself perfectly still, mind trying to catch up to what his body knows is happening.

And then the echo of a hammer being cocked rattles through the car, killing the beginnings of the hard on he really shouldn’t be getting.

“You should really be more careful with your gun,” she says, grinning mischievously at him but somehow unaware of her double entendre.  Seth swears loudly, and Kate just laughs at him as she carefully lowers the hammer back down.

“Why don’t you head up to the room, and I’ll go get us some food,” he says gruffly, twisting away from her in his seat and turning back towards the steering wheel.  Still giggling, Kate climbs out of the car, and Seth lets out a long, slow, exhale, trying to bring his body back under control.

He’s gonna need a cold shower tonight, he thinks as he peels out of the parking lot.

 

 

When he gets back to the motel room, Kate has his revolver in pieces, spread out on a towel on the floor, and is wiping each cylinder down.  He stops in the doorway, arms full of tacos and beer, to watch her clean each part of the gun.

He’s got a weakness for women who can handle guns and a fondness for brunettes and Kate looks up to smile at him like she just won the goddamn lotto instead of shitty street tacos.

Jesus H. Christ, Seth is fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> title from the Nancy Sinatra song of the same name


End file.
